


Seizing the Day

by ArtemisRayne



Series: May Look at a King - A Newsies Felisian AU [6]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Felisians, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Jack Kelly, Cat/Human Hybrids, Davey Needs a Hug in This One, Established Relationship, Felisian!Jack, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homosexuality, Internalized Self-Hate, Intimacy, Jack Obliges, Jewish Character, Jewish Identity, M/M, Religion, Religion and Sexuality, Sexuality, surprise tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 21:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15981029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: The problem, Jack realizes very quickly, with trying to actually maintain a relationship instead of his usual one-night flings is that everything moves so much slower. So it's six weeks into their relationship before - "Wait, youse got a tattoo?"





	Seizing the Day

**Author's Note:**

> This one fought me tooth and nail guys. I've literally written like fifteen different versions of this one because none of them felt right. I knew where I wanted it to go, but these boys just don't listen very well. So instead you guys get this, some fluff and teenage boys being teenage boys with a generous side dish of angst.

The problem, Jack realizes very quickly, with trying to actually maintain a relationship instead of his usual one-night flings is that everything moves _so much slower_.

It's not that he's not enjoying himself, because he definitely is. He's got nothing against a lazy afternoon make-out with Davey, really - it's a whole new kind of feeling, taking the time to explore and learn little things about his boyfriend. Like how kissing that spot under Davey's jaw makes him make that soft, breathy noise; or that his sides are incredibly ticklish and will make him kick out wildly (which was a funny but painful discovery.) There's something empowering about knowing these tiny details, and the fact that Jack can make his generally composed boyfriend fall apart so easily because of it.

Jack is trying his damnedest to behave himself, letting Davey set the pace because he isn't about to rush him into anything he's not ready for. (Sure, Jack might have a few notches in his bedpost, but never let it be said he ain't a gentleman.) It's not bad either, because it's not like Davey's a prude or anything. Hell, sometimes when he gets worked up, he's even more eager than Jack, and he can get oddly assertive, which Jack finds far more attractive than he expected.

In the end, the bit that's really slowing them down is the rest of their lives.

Being college students in general already means that they're ridiculously busy, half of their time spent in classes while the other half is spent slogging through the mountains of homework for said classes. Then they both have part-time jobs on top of that, Jack at the coffee shop and Davey's work-study at the campus library. The amount of free time they have to even spend together is already limited. Add in the fact that Davey lives in the dorms - which have a guest curfew - and Jack lives with his brother - who loves to remind him, in the worst way possible, that with felisian hearing, yes, you _can_ hear everything happening in the room next-door - it can kill the mood fast.

So six weeks into their new relationship, with midterms drawing ever closer and the piles of homework only getting worse, they haven't even made it to a proper second base yet, with zero loss of clothing, and Jack's kind of thinking he might actually die of it.

It's another of their Friday dinner and Netflix evenings (which have switched to being every other Friday because the library sprung an extra shift on Davey after another student dropped out.) They've barely finished eating when Davey reaches for the remote to pause the show. Jack glances sideways, startled, to find his boyfriend staring at him with a blazing, determined look that sets his insides on fire. "I vividly remember being told on our very first date that I'm not allowed to seduce you while your show's on," Davey says with a teasing lilt to his lips, and then before Jack can laugh, Davey is kissing him.

There's something different tonight, something feverish and focused instead of their usual languid exploration. Davey is clearly wound up because he's taking the lead, deepening the kiss eagerly, and Jack's more than willing to follow his lead. A minute later, he reaches across to nudge Jack's tail out of the way so he can straddle Jack's lap (and Jack will never say it aloud, but the fact that Davey even bothers to check for his tail when they've both clearly got more important things on mind melts him like butter.) Davey settles onto Jack's thighs, using the better angle to switch his attention to Jack's neck.

Long fingers slide beneath the hem of Jack's shirt, eagerly exploring the curve of his waist and muscles of his stomach. The other hand drags nails along the scalp below Jack's ear, in that sensitive spot that Davey's figured out always makes him shiver. "Fuck, Dave, youse gonna be the death of me," Jack breathes.

"I hope not," Davey murmurs, and Jack can feel the smile against his skin, "that'll really ruin my plans for the night." He nips at Jack's skin just above the collar of his shirt, and the low rumble slips out before Jack can stop it, a deep, guttural noise that vibrates in his ribs. Before Jack can try to play off the frankly animal noise, Davey echoes it with a soft moan that short-circuits Jack's brain.

Jack reluctantly lets go of Davey's hips when the taller boy tugs insistently at his shirt, allowing Davey to pull it over his head and toss is aside unceremoniously. Davey's none-too-shy about staring as his eyes pan over Jack's bared torso, and the felisian preens under the attention. At the same time, Jack reaches for the buttons on Davey's vest, intent on evening the playing field.

"You wear too many fuckin' layers," Jack grumbles when he finally gets the vest off and starts on the shirt buttons.

"You love my vests," Davey responds, amused. The felisian can't argue that. It had been a pleasant surprise to discover that the outfit from their first date wasn't an attempt to impress and is actually just a standard outfit for Davey. The man owns like twenty vests. Jack should probably find that ridiculous and nerdy, but mostly it's just adorable. (And the way they compliment the tall, narrow lines of Davey's body are nothing to complain about either.)

"Well, yeah, but - Christ, there's _another_ ," Jack whines when he gets the first few buttons of the shirt undone and spots the thin undershirt beneath. "Youse worse'n a girl." Jack isn't positive whether the sharp bite to his shoulder is a coincidence or a reprimand, but it does make his fingers slip on the buttons.

It takes a minute more to get the rest of the buttons down, and he shoves Davey's shirt back off his shoulders. Without hesitation, Jack reaches for the hem of the undershirt and drags it up over Davey's head. Jack leans back into the cushions, ignoring the way sitting like this presses awkwardly on his tail even with his feet beneath him because he's waited _weeks_ to get a good look at what's under the wrapping paper and-

"Wait, youse got a tattoo?"

Davey freezes for a split second, and the sudden ripple of tension that rolls through him would be utterly imperceptible if he weren't pressed so wholly against Jack. The felisian can't take his eyes away from the spot, though, twisting to get a better view of the line of black, angular symbols that descend down the left side of Davey's ribcage. Curious, he reaches up and brushes his thumb along the first, squared shape. "Please tell me it's, like, Elvish or somethin'," Jack jokes.

Scoffing, Davey bats his hand away. "It's Hebrew, idiot," he says dryly, his arms bracketing Jack's head where he's bracing himself against the back of the sofa. Jack's gaze snaps up attentively. That strange new tightness in his muscles hasn't softened, and Davey sets his jaw, his chin tipping up that way he does when he's getting defensive. Jack doesn't know how it happened, but they've clearly strayed into one of those topics that strike some deep, secret chord inside his boyfriend.

"Youse Jewish?" Jack asks curiously, and he settles his hands gently on Davey's sides, trying to comfort him. (It only hurts a little when Davey flinches slightly.) "Didn't know that."

"Do you really wanna talk about this _right now_?" Davey asks and very deliberately rolls his hips. Jack's ears flatten, head tipping back as another one of those soft growls reverberates through his ribs. In the very next breath, Davey leans in to kiss him again, curling his fingers in the hair on the back of Jack's head to hold him in place. His stomach leaps and Jack's tail thumps against the cushions when it twitches eagerly.

"Right, point made," Jack mutters against Davey's mouth. He loops his arms around Davey's waist and flips them, rolling to lay his boyfriend down across the sofa. His tail lashes and he smirks as he stretches out over Davey. "Sorry, feet was fallin' asleep," he admits into the side of Davey's neck, making the taller boy laugh. "Pins 'n' needles kill the mood."

"I bet," Davey says. He sucks in a sharp breath when Jack nips lightly at that spot below the corner of his jaw and Jack beams; he loves that noise. Davey hooks his fingers in Jack's waistband and pulls him down, lining their bodies up, and there's something intoxicating in the way that Davey's long, slender frame fits so perfectly within the lines of Jack's broader one.

"Mmm, youse so pretty," Jack whispers, tracing his fingers along the shallow outlines of muscle in Davey's torso. He's not ripped, by any means, but he also definitely wasn't exaggerating the amount of cardio training he did in high school. Like those clean, sharp angles of his face that captivated Jack from the start, his body is made up of long, lean planes; a tall V of his abdomen, the faint shadow of his hip bones and ribs, the smooth spread of pectorals up to prominent collarbones.

Jack's gaze falls on the hollow of Davey's throat. A thin gold chain he's never noticed before holds a tiny, six-point star that gleams against his pale skin. There's something striking about the sight, and Jack leans in to kiss the ridge of bone just beside it. "Mm, ach'lly, I do got one question," he says, gliding his fingers over the black-marked skin on Davey's ribs. "If youse Jewish, that mean you got, uh - what's the word?" Lost for the term, Jack settles for making a vague, cutting gesture above his crotch.

Davey's already flushed face burns bright red. "You mean circumcised?" he asks with a sarcastic laugh. Hand settling low on Jack's spine where his fingers tease along his waistband, Davey's embarrassed smile suddenly slides toward something devious. "Let's move this to your room before Racer gets home and maybe you can find out."

And Jack lets out a breathless laugh, practically falling off the sofa in his haste to stand. They half-sprint across the apartment, both shirtless and giggling like teenagers, and Jack shuts the door behind them with the distracted thought that he hopes Davey never stops surprising him. 

* * *

Later that evening, Jack is lying on his stomach in bed, contented and boneless, cheek resting on Davey's shoulder. His tail is curled loosely around Davey's leg, and Davey is distractedly rubbing that spot at the base of Jack's ear that makes a warm hum build in his chest. (Jack does not _purr_ , the rumbling noise he sometimes makes is just a - ragged sigh.) Even though he's feeling like taking a little nap right here is a good idea, his curiosity gets the better of him.

Jack pushes up onto his elbows, reaching across to run his fingers over the left side of Davey's ribs. The skin is smooth, no tangible impression of the black ink that sits beneath the surface, and Jack cocks his head to eye the unfamiliar shapes.

**נצל את היום**

"What's'it mean?" Jack asks.

Davey's face is soft in the yellow glow of Jack's bedroom lamp, his eyes half-lidded with a lazy satisfaction. (Jack can't help but feel a little proud of putting that look on his face.) The hand that was rubbing Jack's ear has slid down to settle on his back, fingers tapping a vague rhythm, while his other arm is tucked under his head. "Seize the day," Davey says, licking his lips. "Was supposed to be a sorta motivational thing, you know? Remind me to not be so shy, to get out and take advantage of the opportunities I've been given."

"That's cool," Jack says, eyes running across the shapes again. "Thought about gettin' a tattoo before, got a thing drawn up and all, but I don't trust no one else to not fuck it up. And I'm scared of needles." He huffs wryly, and Davey grins. "Did it hurt?"

"Like a bitch," Davey says, and Jack laughs at just the sound of the curse on Davey's tongue, something he does so rarely. "Kind of like - if you got a million bee stings in a row on top of a sunburn." Jack winces, ears drawing back at the thought. "I never would've done it on my own," Davey admits. "It was Sarah's idea. That's what we did for our eighteenth birthday. Now I've got a permanent reminder that my sister's a terrible influence."

Jack smirks. "Ain't so bad. I like it," he says, smoothing a palm over the tattoo. "Always thought a fella with ink is sexy. I mean, youse seen David Beckham, right?" Davey snorts, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his mouth tips up. "I didn't know youse Jewish though," Jack adds, and feels the tension shiver through Davey again. Ah, so it's not the tattoo that's the sore topic, it's the _religion_. "You never said."

"I'm not exactly active anymore," Davey says, shrugging off-hand, but he's not meeting Jack's eyes now. "I can't even remember the last time I actually went to temple."

Confused, Jack glances from the gold star at Davey's throat to the Hebrew lettering in his skin. "Why not?"

The smile that flashes across Davey's lips is humorless and tight. "Even in a place as liberal as New York, there's still plenty of people who will gladly remind you what the bible says about gays."

"Ugh, really?" Jack recoils with a frustrated noise, his ears flattening in annoyance. He knows that sort of thing happens all the time. Clashes between churches and the gay community are all over the news every other day. Hell, Jack's been on the receiving end of it often enough himself - honestly, even the gay community can get a bit pissy with you when you're bi, so he's felt the hate from both being gay and not being gay _enough_.

But Davey's always seemed so confident and comfortable in that part of himself. He's got this easy acceptance of himself, unflinching about his sexuality in a way even Jack can't fully manage, completely settled in how it reflects on his masculinity and general self. The thought of Davey being subjected to that kind of bigotry, especially in a place where he should've felt safe, makes Jack's blood boil.

Davey swipes his fingertips against Jack's spine, a distinctly soothing gesture that makes Jack realize how much of his thoughts he must be wearing on his face. "It's fine," Davey says, and this smile is less bitter if a touch sad. "My family's always been great about it. Honestly, most everyone I know has been. When I was a kid, we had this really great rabbi who helped me a lot, taught me about reading for the lesson beneath the words instead of the words on the surface." He shrugs again. "But we moved after my parents got married, and our new rabbi was less - progressive. So we stopped going."

"M'sorry," Jack murmurs. He reaches up, smoothing the lines in Davey's brow, and it earns him a soft, tender smile.

"I'm fine," Davey says. He runs his hand down the length of Jack's spine again, and Jack arcs into the contact before he thinks better of it. As much as he wants to be annoyed - because he's not a fuckin' cat even if his stupid body sometimes forgets that - the gentle affection on Davey's face eases it slightly.

"That's the reason I got the tattoo in Hebrew, actually," Davey picks up again, his fingers switching to rub lazy circles in the small of Jack's back. "I was going to get it in Latin like Sarah's originally."

"Latin?" Jack asks, eyebrows raising. "Don't tell me ya know Latin too."

Davey laughs. "Not more than a handful of words," he says. "But 'seize the day' in Latin is ' _carpe diem_.'"

"Oh, _that's_ what that means? I've heard folks say that 'fore," the felisian says, nodding. "I always thought it was a fancy French seafood or somethin'."

A bright giggle escapes Davey, and the sound washes over Jack like the comfort of a favorite shirt. "You're ridiculous," Davey informs him with a smile, flicking the tip of Jack's ear - Jack flutters it in response, more for the way it makes Davey grin than from the actual contact. "I know you don't actually think _carpe diem_ is about fish."

"S'what _you_ think," Jack jokes, swaying his tail playfully before he lets it settle across Davey's ankles again. He drums his fingers against Davey's tattoo. "So why'd ya get it in Hebrew then?"

"Because Jewish law is as fond of tattoos as it is of gays," Davey says with a rueful grin.

Jack snickers. "That's a helluva 'fuck you' gesture. I approve."

Davey huffs, and the arm beneath his head slides out, his hand drifting up to touch the star on its chain. "I've always been a Jew, and an awful rabbi chasing me out of temple never changed that," he says. "I guess when it came down to it, I just wanted to do something to remind me that stuff like that can't change what I feel inside, you know? That it doesn't matter what people say about me being gay or having a tattoo or whatever; my faith is _mine,_ and they can't take that from me."

And it probably says something about Jack that he finds _that_ hot, that the firm conviction in Davey's expression is what turns his insides to mush. It's the reason so many of their friendly debates end up in them tangled together on the sofa. It's the reason Jack didn't take back his phone number that first day when this short-fused freshman was so determined not to accept his cup of coffee. Because behind the nervous shields, there's this guy who has powerful, resonant beliefs - in religion, in politics, even in silly little things like TV programs and pizza toppings - and he won't let anyone interfere with those.

The curious look Davey's giving him makes Jack worry about how much of his thoughts are showing on his face, but it doesn't really matter, because there's only one response Jack can come up with to a declaration like that. Palm pressed flat against the tattoo on Davey's ribs, the felisian leans in and recaptures his boyfriend's mouth. The tension immediately bleeds out of Davey, smiling against Jack's lips as he relaxes into the kiss.

"You, Davey Jacobs, are just full'a surprises," says Jack. Which, truth be told, Jack is perfectly okay with; it keeps their budding relationship feeling fresh and new and exciting all the time. If this is what relationships are like, Jack thinks he's been missing out all this time, but he suspects it has more to do with Davey specifically. This crazy guy full of contradictions, who is fierce and passionate and argumentative but somehow still vulnerable and tender and always considerate enough to make sure Jack's tail is safe before he moves.

"Glad you're turned on by my mini religious crisis," Davey chuckles in amusement.

"Dunno whatcha talkin' about," Jack says. "Sounds to me like you got your shit figured out better than most folks I know." Davey grins and threads his fingers through the hand Jack still has resting on his ribs.

Curiosity satisfied, Jack stretches and nuzzles his cheek back into the curve of Davey's shoulder. "You going to sleep?" Davey asks.

Jack hums. "Might do," he admits. "If it means youse stayin'."

Davey's laugh brushes warm against Jack's ears, tickling the fur softly. "Guess I don't really have a choice, do I? I'm sort of trapped."

Smirking, Jack curls himself tighter against Davey's side. "Good, plan worked," he says, making Davey laugh again. Jack tips his head, breathing in the blend of his own scent on Davey's skin, and his tail lashes with satisfaction. Yeah, he's not moving any time soon.

Still... "Hey, Dave?" Davey makes a soft noise to show he's listening. "Ya know, I think Henry's Jewish too. Sure he could pro'lly point ya in a good direction if ya wanted to start goin' back to church."

Davey's fingers still on Jack's spine, a brief flicker of tension that makes Jack worry he's overstepped his bounds before the hand drifts back up to card in his hair. "Yeah, maybe," Davey says noncommittally. He tips his head to press a kiss to the top of Jack's head, right between his ears, and then settles back on the pillow. "But right now I'm tired and really don't want to think about the biology midterm I should be studying for."

Jack chuckles, flexing his hands against Davey's skin and lazily sucking a small purple mark into the patch of collarbone right in front of him, despite Davey's token protest. "Gimme a li'l nap to recover, and I'll teach ya some biology," he jokes. And as Davey snorts a laugh, dragging Jack closer to his side, the felisian hums.

Yeah, _so_ worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: one of the variations of this chapter I wrote included Davey being a secret wizard at DDR.


End file.
